Home
by yesterdaymorning
Summary: Gale/Katniss. The 74th Hunger Games didn't innvolve Katniss Everdeen. Instead she is left to continue to scrape a living in District 12, as around her The Capitol begins to shut it down.
1. Chapter 1

**Home**

_AN: This will be a AU of sorts where Gale and Katniss stay in District 12 as the rebellion happens around them. I know this has been done before, but hell, I wanted to write it and a little more Everthorne in the world is certainly not a bad thing, hey? I'll try and make it engaging for you. It begins just after the Reaping. I will try and twist things around in later chapters if you decide you like this one and think I should continue. No beta, so please excuse typos ;)_

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'God is cruel. Sometimes he makes you live.' - Stephen King

* * *

I attempt to catch Gale's eyes over the crowded dinner table, but between the general clamour that fills the room and the meagre amount of food being shared up and down the table, Gale isn't looking at me. Instead he reaches to tear a small chunk of bread off the plate being offered around and turns to his right to give it to his little brother, Vick, who gobbles it down like only a hungry ten year old boy would. Gal's attention goes straight back to his plate of fish- the same we'd caught up in the woods that very morning- and his eyes remain cast down. He knows I'm looking, I know he does. His sister Posy is pulling at his sleeve, but he brushes her gently off, just as Hazelle re-enters the room with a jug of water and ushers her back to her seat. Gale almost never ignores his family. Something is wrong; Gale is angry, and sitting here 'celebrating' one more reapless year for our family is only allowing him to dwell in it further. I've known Gale a fair few years now. I can tell.

"Katniss?"

I jump in my seat and my elbow connects with a jug of water, nearly upsetting it on the old tablecloth Hazelle has retrieved form one of the kitchen cupboards. Prim catches it just in time though, and frowns at me. "Katniss?" she says again, although now her voice sounds worried.

"Hmm? What?" I make myself answer. Prim's eyebrows pucker in the middle.

"Are you okay? I just wanted to know if you wanted the water. Your glass is empty…"

My glass is indeed empty. I didn't notice, too wrapped up in trying to get Gale's attention. Although what I would have done once I had it, I don't know. I can't exactly talk to Gale in here. Our kitchen table has been pushed against the Hawthorne's so we all fit around it, and the room is heaving. We can't talk about what is clearly bothering him in front of his family, is my guess. I shake my head.

"No, I'm good for water, thanks Prim."

"And you're sure you're alright?"

I look at my sister next to me, her blue eyes so coloured with worry, and then along the table to my Mother, who is picking at her food, and around again, to all of Gale's family too. Prim is still here. Neither her name, nor Gale's nor my own had been called out in the town square today, like it so often is in the nightmares that wake me drenched in sweat, skin crawling under my thin sheets. My refusal for Prim to take tesserae had come through, and somehow, amazingly both Gale and I had escaped unscathed too. It could be described a miracle really, and though I was sad for the two young people that had been selected there was no doubt that tonight I was relieved, which is as close to feeling happy as you can get in District 12. That's what happens when you care about people- they always come first, and the world might as well stop moving if they don't. So here we all are, eating a meal together, and carrying on as the world continues to trundle around on it's axis.

I feel the need to comfort Prim though, so I flash her a small smile. "Yes, Little Duck, I'm fine."

She smiles too at her little nickname and nods, and is finally distracted by Rory whispering something in her ear. It makes her laugh, the kind of laugh that requires you to throw back you head and just let the joke bubble up within you. Her eyes are now bright, and her soft blonde hair shines in the candlelight. It makes me want to sit down and laugh too, but these days I know if I don't stop my laughter after a while, it'll turn into crying.

Maybe that's why I only laugh in the woods, when Gale and I are coming back from a hunt together, our game bags full and swinging in our hands. That way it's only ever Gale that sees the smile slide off my face, or that tears collect in the corner of my eyes. And most of the time he has the decency to pretend to not notice.

I turn back to look at him, and Gale looks up to grab his water cup just at the wrong time. His eyes connect with mine, and his are steel grey and seem to flash darkly at me. If I didn't know Gale wasn't angry at me, I might even be scared. At eighteen now, Gale is as broad shouldered and as well built as most men in District 12 get, if not more, and he can make an intimidating sight. The few times he's been caught up in trouble at school has always ended up with the other person much the worse for wear, whereas Gale tends to just shake his injuries off. Hazelle is always trying to curb his temper, often to no avail. One word against his family, or one mention of the Capitol is often enough to get him riled up.

I don't break eye contact though and Gale freezes, his hand half-way to his glass. He blinks and the expression clears a little, as if someone was rubbing at a grimy window, but the line of his shoulders remains tense. I mouth at him one word, across the table.

'_Outside_.'

He nods stiffly at me, just as Hazelle begins to gather up the dirty plates. She stands at the head of the table, making stacks to carry to the sink, and her lips set in a thin line.

"It's time for the viewing," she says.

A pit settles in my stomach. Of course. As if you could ever be free of the Hunger Games. I hand my plate mutely up with the others.

* * *

Once the games begin, viewing for all districts becomes mandatory. There's coverage all hours of that day for those who want it- mostly air-headed people form the capitol, chewing popcorn as they watch the weak and vulnerable die. Just the thought of them in their richly coloured clothes and in their ludicrously expensive houses, eyes glued to the screen, makes my stomach tighten uncomfortably. As for the rest of us, there's an hour and half's required viewing each day until the Games end. In some areas, it's fairly heavily policed. The Capitol mean the Games to serve as a warning, and they can't impress their total and utter power and control over us if we chose to ignore their method. So optional viewing is taken out of the equation, of course.

Normally you can get away with just making sure the TV is set to the right channel as the Peacekeepers around here aren't too tight on it. Most of the time when the Games are on air I let Prim curl up on the sofa and I start cooking, if my Mother isn't up to it. That way I can tune it out to nothing more than background noise, the white buzz of a radio stuck between stations.

Hazelle obviously isn't taking any chances though, because she herds everyone into the living room (or the room off the kitchen) and switches the TV on, before glancing a little anxiously out of the window. They're always a little more pro-active the first evening- they want you to know that your district's tributes have little chance of winning, so the despair sets in nice and early. Maybe this is what Hazelle is afraid of. My Mother, Prim and Posy take up the couch, Rory sprawls out on the floor, Hazelle sets herself down in her rocking chair, her knitting already in her hand. Gale sits in the armchair his father used to collapse in after a hard day at the mines, and Vick crawls up to sit on his lap. From my position hovering in the doorway, you could almost imagine Gale was more his father's age than just eighteen. His face is drawn and his grip on Vick in his lap is tighter than it needed to be, and he stares grimly at the television set as the Capitol symbol flashes up in all it's neon glory.

Hazelle calls out to me from her chair. 'Katniss, aren't you going to sit down?"

I look around for a spare seat and eventually Prim pulls a sleepy looking Posy to sit on top of her, freeing a place on the sofa for me. I sink down next to her, feeling the material sag under my weight, and it occurs to me yet again that my whole family is sat on this sofa, and almost everyone I care about is sat in this room. Gale is out of the reaping now, home and dry to a life labouring in the mines, but the rest of the Hawthorne children and innocent little Prim have years to get through yet. Will I be sat here next year, watching one of them on TV instead? Or will they be watching me?

They're gong through the list of tributes. As usual the Careers look fiercely beautiful, strong and confident. The others shake as they walk on stage, trying their hardest not to cry. The boy from District 10 refuses to look at the camera and the footage has to be cut, but not before we see a Peacekeeper yank his head round by the hair at the nape of his neck. Some are strong, like the big black boy from District 11 who stares unseeing at the crowd. There's long coverage on all of them, from their families to the usual history of the district, while the commentators take bets on which ones they think stand a chance, and which ones will become the nation's favourite, their voices off-hand and jovial the whole time. Everyone is silent, shifting uneasily in their chairs.

And then comes District 12, always last, and what I saw live a couple of hours ago is now beamed back to me, pixelated and harsh. Effie Trinket with her bubblegum hair stand on the stage and once more her wavering voice calls out the two names thinly into the silent crowd. The girl is sixteen, someone who I pass in the corridor at school and never really give a real thought to. That makes me feel guilty now. I know she's the Greengrocer's daughter, and this at least explains why we never talked. Everyone knows that Jessae Johnson comes from the part of District 12 that doesn't always have to beg and barter to get food on that table, and that alone is enough for some of us to hate her on principle. Gale talked to her a few times, I know, or rather she talked at him, but Gale denounced her as 'too naive' and she over-heard and then the whole thing got pretty ugly. I hope what Gale said wasn't true, because there's no way she's going to survive otherwise. Jessae trips as she walks on stage, and I see Gale wince for her, and his fist clenching by his side. I wonder if there wasn't more going on between them than I knew about.

But now they're showing the boy again. His name is Jeremiah Sullivan, or just Jem, and he's the year above me, year below Gale. He's tall, not particularly well-built, but I could place money on him being damn fast at running. You have to be to hunt anyway, and he looks the type. I've seen him around before, in line to bargain with Greasy Sae, or dropping his little sister off at pre-school. We've exchanged a few smiles over the years, looks of understanding you could say, as his father died in the same accident as mine. But everyone in District 12 has their struggles and you only become aware of other's when you start paying close attention, so other than that I don't know much about Jem. He stands on the stage, slightly apart from Jessae, and you can see he is trying to smile. Someone has obviously told him some tips- he's aiming for a headstart, making the Capitol notice him, or maybe Jem just knows what to do. I allow myself to hope, just for a second, that this kid stands a chance. And then I come back to reality.

Gale sort of grunts from his seat. "He's a good one," he states, though his voice is flat. I don't know what he's trying to say about Jem. Good as in he has a fleeting possibility of lasting a while, or just that Jem didn't deserve to be reaped? If the latter, then every single kid in District 12, is 'good', even the bullies.

The camera pans away from the stage to show Jem's mother, his younger sister clutched and struggling in her arms. His mother is hysterical, calling out Jem's name and something else besides. The sound has been muted as the commentators lament on what a sad time it is for families, but how they should look upon this as an honour for their child, and how this is terrible behaviour. You can tell though, with only a little lip-reading what Jem's mother is saying. _You son of a bitch, Snow. You son of a bitch. _She is quickly cut off as the camera zooms in on his sister's round and pink face, flooded with tears. She must be about seven now. Old enough to know what's happening, and young enough to not be able to do anything to console herself or her mother. She is clawing at her mother's arms, desperately reaching for Jem. She's only onscreen for a second maybe, but it's enough to pull at my heartstrings and make my eyes mist, so I reach for Prim's hand next to me.

Gale, however, has decided he's seen enough and gets abruptly to his feet, Vick sliding to the floor off him.

"I'm going outside. I can't watch this," he announces, and goes to storm out the room. Hazelle calls out after him.

"Gale! You can't- you've still got half an hour left…"

He stops by the doorway and heaves in a breath. "I don't care, Mam. If the Peacekeeps come knocking tell them I'm taking a leak or something. A man can't be expected to control his bodily fluids can he?" He laughs bitterly. "I'll just be in the backyard. Send Vick to come get me if they come round."

He slips out the door before she can argue back, and before I can think about what I'm doing I jump up after him.

"Katniss!" both Prim, Hazelle, ad surprisingly my Mother say in alarmed unison. I hadn't thought my Mother had been paying attention- blocking it all out like she usually does. I look steadily at her and shrug.

"We won't be long," I promise. That's a lie; I have no idea how long I'll be out there with Gale, but I know I need to talk to him. I duck behind the door.

* * *

_AN: Yo! So how's you like that for a beginning? it's well covered ground i know, yadayadayada, but I think it had to be done. This will be a Galeniss/Everthorne fic though, based mostly in District 12, I think. We'll see where I go with it. That is of course if I can continue it, so let me know what you thought._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_AN: Hey, so thank you so much for those of you that left reviews! You were all so lovely! It made me want to continue right away, so here it is! I can't promise how long this update rate will last though..haha. If you want to be even more updated on this story, I've set up a tumblr for it- the username is evarthorne. Bonus pictures of Jenn & Liam of course. So as usual, no beta, apologies and onwards!_

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'Sometimes we can choose the paths we follow. Sometimes our choices are made for us. And sometimes we have no choice at all.' - Neil Gaiman.

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By the time I find Gale he's sitting out the back of the house, on the rickety old porch that Gale's father built himself when Gale was around five years old. It's old and weathered now, splintered wood and a few rusty nails here and there. Gale always said he'd fix it up one day, but he didn't have the time. Now he's working in the mines, he's got even less. It creaks under my feet as I approach him, but he doesn't turn around. He probably knows who it is. I sit down next to him on the stairs and wait for him to start talking. There's only so long Gale can go before it all comes bubbling out.

He turns his head to look at me, the first real time since this evening started and then gives me a faint smile.

'Figured you'd come after me." He doesn't sound pleased though, not as friendly as he usually does when I appear.

"Well someone had to."

He nods and looks down at his hands, folded together over his knees. "Sorry," he says flatly. "For ignoring you."

"S'okay. You obviously have a reason."

Gale drops his head into his hands, until all I can see is the broadness of his back and his dark hair. This isn't like Gale at all. Normally he'd have started ranting by now, and I'd let him just blow off steam, adding my comments when I felt they were needed. But now he's gone all silent, and I can't get a read on him. It bothers me.

"Gale. Spill, come on. Your Mom's in there waiting for you." I touch him on the shoulder, gently. "And me now too I guess," I add as an afterthought, and this makes Gale look up. I can see the flexing of his jaw as he grinds his teeth together.

"It's just all such _bullshit,'_"he spits, finally, but I immediately know what he's referencing. The vehemence in his voice makes me recoil however, and I drag my hand away from where I'm touching him, just out of instinct. I've heard Gale angry before, even angry at the Capitol before, but normally he's loud and opinionated and this seething tone, as if live snakes were about to burst from his voice box, takes me by surprise. Normally I'm the one for silent rages. I raise a startled eyebrow at him but Gale has resorted to staring out at the small backyard, the yellowing grass, the kids tennis balls, old and rotten.

"You already knew that." I say in an as even voice as I can manage. "You grew up with that, Gale. It's not about to change now." I don't like it anymore than he does, but after the Reaping today I'm not going to waste my energy being angry about it. Not today, anyhow.

"Doesn't that frustrate you?"

I frown. "Yes, Gale, of course it does, but-"

Gale scrambles to his feet, flinging his arms out. "But what, Katniss? But what? Look at us all, celebrating because no one in _our_ family has to die this year, not if we're lucky. No one should be dying at all!"

"Of course! But outside of the Games, people die all the time, Gale. Old age and disease and accidents and-"

"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it! People in the Capitol don't die of disease, they live to to be ninety. And they have private doctors! Can you imagine? And their kids survive the Flu…" he tails off, but he's holding onto the porch railing, his knuckles white.

"That's the Capitol. They're different." I sigh. It's late and I feel so so tried all of a sudden. I am tired of this conversation, and yes, I am tired of living like I do. "Why are you so angry, Gale? More than usual?"

He shrugs and leans over the railing a bit more, putting his whole weight on it. I can see it bowing in the middle.

"I don't know. It's just- I guess- I mean, the kids today. I knew Jessae. She's not gonna get further than a few days, and, and.." he seems to choke a little and then shakes his head. "It's such a waste."

I nod sadly and bunch up my legs, hugging my knees to my chest. The sun's going down now and the mountains are being burnt orange by the light, and the shadows around me are going longer, even as I look at them. I try a change of tactics.

"But the good news is that you're safe now, right? Next year you'll be with the adults."

This makes him freeze. His shoulders go rigid again, and I know I've said something wrong.

"Gale?"

"Fourty-two. I didn't stand a chance. So why wasn't it me?" His voice sounds ice-cold.

"Gale!"

He twists around, and I catch sight of his face, contorted, mouth twisted up in a bitter smile.

"May the odds be ever in your favour. And they weren't, and I still got off clean."

"Gale, what are you trying to say?"

"It should've been me, Katniss. Maybe I would've been able to do something. Now I'm not even sure I'll ever leave the district. My life is in the mines now, and what can I do down there? Of course I didn't want to get picked, not this morning, but when they read out Jem's name, I didn't feel relieved like I thought I would. I felt…I felt disappointed. Because now I'll never get the chance. Maybe in the Games I could've sent out a message, showed them hat we're not gonna continue lying down when they walk all over us- I don't know _something_! Now I just have to watch more people die and _not be able to do a single damn thing about it._"

Now I'm jumping to my feet and I grab at his forearms, trying to shake some sense into him. "Gale, you're lucky! Do you hear me? _Lucky!_" I'm staring up into his face, but his eyes burn into my own and I resist the urge to cringe away from him. I continue to meet his cold gaze.

Then suddenly he relaxes in my hands. The tension seeps out of his arms and his eyes soften, but only so I can see more clearly the sadness reflected in them.

"You don't understand."

I punch him in the chest. Hard.

"Gale! What would you have done, anyway, other than die like the others? What would you have achieved, other than leave your family starving? What would they do without you?"

"You wouldn't let them starve, Katniss. I know," he says simply, still coughing slightly over the blow I dealt him. It makes me feel oddly proud, but I still want to hit him again.

I scoff at him, eyes narrowed. "I'm not enough, Gale."

Once he's recovered he just shrugs again, a deep dip in his board shoulders. "Sometimes you are."

Before I can snap at him, ask what on earth he means by that, Gale has wrenched himself away from me and is walking back into the house. I think about sitting back down to watch the stars come out, just so I can contemplate what the hell just happened, as the crickets start to hum around me. But in the end I follow him. I have no choice but to.

* * *

The end credits for the Games are rolling as I step back into the living room- the commentators chatting excitedly about the interviews tomorrow. Gale is back in his chair, bouncing Posy, who seems to have woken up and is gurgling happily, on his knee. Any trace of the conversation we just had seems to have left his face, and I suspect it's for his family's benefit. Any more brooding and Hazelle would have been sure to ask him about it. Prim is already dozing off, her slim form curled around my mother's side and I know this means we should get home. Gale will return the kitchen table to us tomorrow. For now, I think we all need to sleep, although it's barely eight o'clock.

Hazelle pushes herself out of her chair, slipping her knitting away and smiles at me.

"You kids alright? You're lucky- no one came round this evening."

Yes, lucky. Like I told Gale. Just because things aren't totally awful, does that make us lucky? I know where Gale's coming from, I do, but it doesn't mean I agree with him.

"Sure, Mam. I just needed some air."

Hazelle nods and smiles at her son softly. "The girl- you knew her didn't you?"

Gale blinks, hesitant for a second and then nods. Hazelle sighs and walks over to wipe sweep a hand through Gale's hair, brushing it out of his face like she would have done when he was years younger. Gale smiles sadly up at her and she lets her fingers drop away, biting her lip.

"I love you, son."

He looks surprised; his eyebrows shoot upwards, but Hazelle just looks at him fondly, her eyes shining more than they should in the dim light of the room, until Gale mutters, "Love you too, Mam."

After she walks away, helping my Mother up and Prim into her coat, I catch Gale's eyes. He is the first to look away.

I find my mother and sister by the door and give Posy one last kiss before we start to leave, the Hawthorne's filling up the doorway, calling out their good-byes. I can see Gale behind them, the tallest figure of all, and almost as I turn the bend to walk the lane to my house I hear his voice added to the others.

"See ya, Catnip."

And I smile into the twilight, with Prim hanging onto my hand.

* * *

_AN: So does that explain Gale a bit more? I'm kind of drawing from Gale in the later books now, I think. So we shall see where these views get him, won't we? ;)_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_AN: Hello, so here's an update. I am building up to something, I promise. No beta, so excuse typos as usual (because I also suck at proofreading) and I hope you enjoy it._

* * *

"I can't exactly describe how I feel but it's not quite right. And it leaves me cold." -F Scott Fitzgerald

* * *

My living room is cold. Spring is drawing to a close now, the nights seem to creep closer every time you look away from the cracked window-pane in the kitchen. Prim is already in bed, her little hands clutched tightly around the raggedy teddy that was mine before I relinquished it to her much more loving possession. My mother is laid out next to her, her fair hair blending in with Prim's. She sleeps softly, the hard lines around her mouth and eyes smoothed out, her lips curved into a small smile rather than pursed tightly as she stares out into the distance, seeing God knows what. She twitches in her dreams, nothing more, and I am grateful.

It's approaching the time that I too should be bedding down, but I don't feel inclined to crawl under my sheets at all, as more and more lately they seem to twist around my ankles and pin down my hands until I feel trapped and tethered in my own bed. I know, of course that isn't true, but the sensation sticks with me, and I don't particularly want to welcome it this evening. Perhaps it's to do with the fact that at night now, instead of reeling off a list of things I have to do tomorrow before I got to sleep, I hear Gale's voice and the things I heard him saying the night of the Reaping, a week ago.

_I just have to watch more people die and not be able to do a single damn thing about it._

Even now, huddled in the one armchair we own by the window, Gale's words float around me, twist and form across the back of my eyelids.

Jessae died yesterday. Brutal. Knife through the throat. The kid lit a fire when Jem had warned her not to, just before he went off to gather some food for their dinner. The temperature of the arena had been lowered to below freezing for the night, ready to start flushing the tributes out. Jessae caved, probably already delirious from the cold, and the Careers were on her before she even had the chance to warm her hands.

By the time Jem returned the forest floor was stained red.

Prim rolls over in her sleep and I watch her even breaths for a minute or too, concentrating on her chest rising and falling as steady as a pendulum keeping time. Jessae's face flashes up in front of me. I didn't even know her, and it hurts me down to my stomach.

I make a snap decision. I cross over to the kitchen table, lugged back over by Gale and Rory a couple of days ago, and scrawl a messy note to Prim on the back of a old stew recipe, just in case she wakes up without me. Then I grab my jacket and some fingerless gloves before slipping out the door.

I have always said that in the evening is the only time you can pretend that District 12 is beautiful. Everything seems rounded off at the corners in the half light- the houses not so ramshackle, the grass not so threadbare, the town square not so stark and cold. Somehow the evening light brings a silvery warmth to it, and the District slips into it's shadows comfortably. It's much better than the sharp relief daylight brings. In plain sunshine, it is hard to pretend.

I pull on the gloves hurriedly and button up my jacket and stalk away from my house, leaving the door on the latch for when I come back. The walk to the edge of the town is fairly short, and like I'd hoped, the fence stands silent before me. No humming. I duck under the hole and pull myself through.

I could probably find my way through the woods blindfolded by now, but the evening light just about throws the little rabbit runs I'm used to using into focus, and I jog along them until I pass the fallen log I normally collect my bow from. I leave it there and carry on past. I won't be catching anything tonight- squirrels and rabbits are hard to catch in the dark, and I focus on maybe collecting some berries or herbs instead. We don't need the food right now, but the fresh air and distraction is doing me good. I conjure up a rough map of the woods in my mind and turn left to where I know I will find the herbs I'm looking for.

The path opens out into the clearing rather sharply and I freeze, a centimetre away from being out in the open. Near the opposite edge is a misplaced shadow that almost sends me diving behind the nearest tree; fearing Rangers, Patrollers or maybe a Peacekeeper, checking up on the area. My blood runs cold. It's a split second before my brain and eyes click together and the shadow takes proper shape, hunched back sitting cross-legged in the dust across from me.

"Gale?" I call out tentatively, no louder than the trees whispering above me. The sound carries and the figure's face jerks upwards and the moon-light hits his face. It _is_ him.

"Catnip?"

'Gale, what are you _doing_ out here?" I hiss at him, hurrying over. He lifts a shoulder easily at me.

"Couldn't sleep. And neither could you, from the looks of it."

I grunt in reply and settle myself down next to him. We sit in silence for a few minutes. Gale picks at the moss on the underside of the boulder we're sitting on, working systematically to clear it all off. Gale is only ever so dedicated to something when he is angry, or wants time to think. I cast my mind back to a few years ago when Gale had gotten into trouble at school. At the time his little sister Posy had been sick and Hazelle had been beside herself trying to heal her. The family would've fallen apart, if it weren't for Gale adding cooking and cleaning to his list of things he did to help. It had consumed his time- I'd hardly seen him that whole week apart from our shortened hunting trips. But there'd also been a major test at school that week, and the final grade for the school year was reliant on the result. Gale hadn't had time to study and was caught by one of the teachers trying to catch a glimpse of the kid's paper next to him. He'd got thrown in detention and threatened with disqualification, and had simmered in anger for a good week after until the school relented and let him re-take the test, when he'd studied.

In between I found him always in his backyard, axe in hand, creating wood for the fire with a kind of manic perseverance that made me think twice about disturbing him. He kept his head down and his arm swinging, and when he was finally done he slung the axe away from him and looked up, twisting his head around for something else to do. In the end I dragged him out into the woods. It's a distraction method for the most part, or something mindless to do while he sorts his thoughts out. Now it looks like it's manifested itself into a nervous habit.

"Do you feel any better, out here?" I ask quietly. His fingers stop scratching at the moss.

"I feel less trapped," he answers. "But then it makes me feel worse when I have to go back."

I sigh and pull my knees into my chest and rest my chin on them. "You have to go back."

"I know."

"Your family needs you."

"You've said. I know."

"Gale, you'd have died."

"Probably."

"I'd have missed you."

He twists his head to look at me for a second, and he answer his voice is quieter. "I know."

"This is for the best." I say, although by now, with Gale's words following me around, I know I'm not just trying to convince Gale. I swallow the lump that's formed in my throat and concentrate on all the reasons I just gave, trying my hardest to cling on to them.

"Maybe."

He goes back to picking at the moss. There's another minute of silence, but I don't feel the pressure to break it. Gale's face is lit up on one side by the moonlight, and his usual tan skin looks pale. It shine though, not washed out, and his eyes reflect a glint that catches my attention, so I find myself staring at his face. After a while Gale swings roux to look at me, and I duck my head quickly, for some reason not wanting to be caught admiring him.

"Why are you out here?"

I hug my knees tighter. "To get some herbs."

"Catnip…" he says softly and the tone of his voice makes me shift uneasily on the rock until I force myself to look at him again. His frown is disbelieving and it makes me bite my lip.

I steel myself up, take a deep breath. "FIne…. I keep thinking about what you said…about Jessae…dying-" Gale flinches. "- and it…bothers me." It's not the right word, I know. But somehow words don't seem enough to describe the knawing feeling in my stomach, the groove my thoughts keep getting stuck in, the things I keep seeing when I close my eyes. Saying it out loud makes it seem stupid and inconsequential and I cringe away from my own words.

Gale understands though. He nods.

"Maybe one day it will change." His tone is bordering on hopeful, but there's that underlying tone of bitterness that has become far too frequent in his speech as of late.

I let a noise, half of frustration, half a laugh to match his bitterness. "May the odds be _ever_ in our favour."

Gale smiles into the darkness.

* * *

I only manage to gather a few herbs that I think might help me sleep at night, with Gale's help, before I am running back home. Gale takes off in the opposite direction and I watch him for a couple of seconds, moving fluidly along the path, before I turn my back on him and force myself back to Prim and my mother. They are both as I left them, sound asleep, exhausted, and I try not to envy them. They have both been working so hard to heal an outbreak of flu in the Seam lately, and it's making them work long hours- my sister has even been missing school.

I crush the herbs I have found into some boiling water and make myself drain the cup. It tastes sharp on my tongue, like the poison rain that sometimes falls on our district and causes everything to rust twice as fast as it usually would. I choke it back and curl up and wonder if Gale is sleeping already. Perhaps he is staring at his bedroom wall too, envisioning a future that might not be so horrible as the one we face now.

* * *

_AN: Well there you have it. Apologies for a filler chapter…kinda. Thoughts and reviews are appreciated, and along my with my duvet, keep me warm at night!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

_AN: I'm so sorry I've been M.I.A for a while. I've been busy trying to pick a college for next year and it's been stressing me out. Plus my internet has kept going down, so I've been trying to fix that. But enough with the excuses. Here's the chapter, as always un-betad, but I hope you enjoy it._

* * *

''I want to know what it'd be like to find perfection in my pride,

to see nothing in the light

Turn it off, in all my spite, in all my spite

And the worst part is

before it gets better we're heading for a cliff"

- Turn It Off, Paramore

* * *

I forgot to close my curtains. That is the first thought that pushes itself to the forefront of my mind when I wake, squinting against the pale sunlight that streams in through my uncovered window. It fills the room with a wan kind of light, the kind that makes you want to bury your head under the bedsheets and ignore.

My second thought is for my hunting jacket hanging by the door, and my boots lined up by the doorstep. It's the itching feeling I get to feel the soft worn leather around my shoulders that finally pulls me out of bed. When I stagger into the kitchen Prim is by the stove, warming some tea. She smiles at me, her fly away hair tucked into a neat braid that hangs all the way down her back. I look to my left, and sure enough, my Mother is sat at the kitchen table, darning socks. She looks up and meets my eye, and although she doesn't smile, there's a look of quiet determination there that reassures me that today I can go out, and everything will not fall apart without me. I don't get that feeling enough, but I think it's getting better these days.

"Hey Katniss. You want tea?"

She pushes the pot towards me, but I shake my head. There's precious liquid in there already, and I had some tea last night. I think the herbs worked, because once I did fall asleep it was dreamless, a total lack of consciousness. Something of a relief.

'I'm going out with Gale," I say as I swipe a piece of burnt bread of the kitchen table and shove it in my pocket. Prim nods at me. She know what I do on sundays by now.

"Be careful."

"I will."

Our usual exchange. And then I am gone.

I pass by the Hob on my way to the fence and it is already bustling. The sound of bartering reaches my ears as I run past, and the familiar voice of Greasy Sae as she ladles out her stew. I wonder what I will be able to sell to her today.

As I draw closer to the fence thoughts of the Hob start to slip out of my mind, however. The air I am running through seems to become thicker, the atmosphere around me on edge. There's a negative energy running through the trees- I can feel it crawling over my skin. I can.

As I round the corner a buzzing fills my ears.

They've put the electricity back on. The fence is alive with the energy, pulsing it out into the woods and the lane I'm running down. I can hear it crackling, and somehow it looks more menacing than usual, though of course I can't see the electricity. As I watch in disbelief, a bird swoops down from a tree overhanging the fence. It flies within a couple of inches of the fence, and then it falls like weight to the grass on the other side, stone dead.

It didn't even touch the fence. There is no way Gale and I will be hunting today.

Just as I think this I hear a voice behind me and I swing round to find Gale standing a little way away, his head craned upwards, staring with the same incredulous look I was wearing a second ago.

_"Oh no,_" he repeats. "You have got to be _shitting_ me. _Today?_"

He slumps down on the grassy bank and continues to look upwards, a mixture of anger and disbelief in equal measures filling his face.

I walk towards him carefully, already bracing myself for the torrent of abuse towards the Capitol he is sure to come out with. Instead, like on the porch, he drops his head into his hands.

"Gale?" My voice comes out full of concern, rather than the warning tone I was ready to give him. "Gale, it-"

He looks up at me, his eyes unfocused and red around the edges.

"Posy's sick. My Mother's stopped working to look after her. For a couple of days now-"

I fall silent immediately. Gale kicks at a tuft of grass with his boot and sends sodden earth flying. I can't answer, the words get stuck in my throat as Gale cradles his head in his hands. When he looks up again he is dry-eyed of course, but only because this is what he has had to deal with, being the man of the family, since he was fourteen years old. And it's just _wrong_. Gale should not have the lives of his whole family on his shoulders.

"You didn't, I mean he didn't-" I start, and thankfully Gale slowly shakes his head.

"No, not yet. I'll be damned if Rory's going to take Tesserae. It's just- they're relying on my haul today, the money I get selling, to, to-"

"-survive." I finish simply for him. Gale nods jarringly, his teeth gritted.

Survival is all anyone is concerned with in District 12, simply because we don't have the opportunity to care about anything else. I feel my stomach clenching, half in worry for Gale, but half combined with the familiar feel of anger, tying everything in knots. It makes me realise, that now more than ever, I wish I could do more than just _survive_. Yes, I want to live. And neither Gale nor I can do tat with the Capitol squeezing the life out of us, and reclining comfortably as they do so.

Then I stop and pull myself together, straightening my shoulders, pulling in a breath. My head clears. And everything seems suddenly ridiculous. "You're being stupid."

"Excuse me?" Gale gawks at me.

"Bring Posy to Prim and my Mother. They've been treating flu patients all week- they'll be able to care for her much more than the best your mother is doing."

Gale frowns at me, his mouth pulling down at the corners. "Katniss, we don't have the money to pay-"

"To hell with your money Gale! You think I want to see your family struggling? See _you_ struggling? Posy's still a baby- she needs their help."

"Katniss, I'm not sure..."

I cut him off. Suddenly the anger has returned, but somehow this time I end up directing it at Gale, my eyes narrowed, and I know I may draw people out with the noise I'm making, i can't rein myself in. "Damn you Gale! I'm not the Capitol! You don't have to hate relying on me!" _This isn't a weakness _iswhat I add on silently with my eyes and Gale blinks at me until his brow softens, just a little. I stand there huffing, my nostrils flaring and Gale clambers to his feet and places his hands on my shoulders, looking me dead in the eye. He feels heavy against me and his grey eyes hold mine.

When he looks at me now, it's like I've thrown him a life-line. And it's idiotic, at best, because I'm helping him when he needs it. Just like we've always done. A boost up to the first branch, a hand to grip onto when we're sliding down a slope, a stone in the air to shoot a bird in flight, the shared weight of a deer carcass strung between the both of us…when I sprained my ankle and Gale carried me all the way home.

"I'll pay you back…someday, Katniss. I promise."

I shake my head furiously at him. "We help each other out- that's what we _do_ Gale."

HIs face cracks into a smile and he takes his hands off my shoulders, and for the briefest of seconds he cradles my cheek in his calloused palm. Then his hand drops away and I'm left looking stupid, just standing there.

"C'mon," he says, jabbing his thumb back off his shoulder in the direction of the Seam. "We're not gonna hunt today."

I kick myself into gear and together we walk back to the Hob. There's expectant glances when we walk in, but we shake our heads mutely and the others shrug or give us grim sympathetic smiles and go back to their stalls. Greasy Sae slides a bowl of stew towards us over the counter when we reach her and when I scrabble in my pocket for any change she shakes her head.

"For the lad. I heard about his little lass. And your Ma's been helping the whole town," she croaks. She slopes off quickly to serve another customer and Gale and I exchange glances. We both hate charity, but we'd be stupid to refuse free food. We take turns with the spoon and it doesn't take us half a minute to drain the bowl and we look longingly at the dregs before Gale sighs and picks it up and steps sideways to hand it back to her. The other customer is still with her and as I watch Gale thank Sae I realise it's not someone I recognise. He doesn't seem to fit in very well, which probably has a lot to do with the way he looks. He doesn't share the tanned skin and grey eyes that Gale and I and the rest of the Seam share. If anyone else were to look at Gale and I, they might think we were distantly related, but it's something I'm used to. Gale is much more alike me in other ways- our shared loss, our bond of survival together, the way he knows what I'm thinking before even I do sometimes.

This man is nothing like us. He is slight and pale, dark hair spiked up in every direction, a faded black leather jacket that fits him snugly, instead of the worn simple clothes we are used to. He looks to be around twenty, and it's clear that he has never worked a single day in a mine from the way he sits so straight at the counter. So what is he doing around here? He must feel me looking because he glances in my direction. His eyes are shockingly blue, but ice cold, and just the brief eye contact we have fills me with an intense feeling. There is urgency behind his eyes, but what he is waiting for, I don't know. I drop my eyes quickly just as Gale rejoins me and starts talking about when he can bring Posy over to see my Mother. He slips his arm around my waist as we head out of the Hob, a habit of his that I have learnt to allow.

I can feel the dark haired man watching us as we leave.

It makes the back of neck prickle uncomfortably and I quicken my pace and pull on his arm until even Gale is having to put in a small amount of effort to keep up with me. He raises an eyebrow at me, but I shake my head a minuscule amount and keep going until we're far away enough from the Hob that I feel better.

Gale pulls up beside me, looking a mixture of perplexed and concerned, the lines in his forehead pronounced. 'Katniss, what the hell was that?"

I glance back at the Hob, but I can't see him, but I strain my eyes to make sure.

"Katniss?"

"I'm sorry. Gale, did you get a look at the guy at Greasy Sae's?"

Gale frowns. "Tall guy? Didn't look to be from around here?"

"Exactly! Don't you think that's strange? Someone we don't recognise? I mean, who voluntarily comes to District 12?"

He shrugs and looks back at the Hob. "Yeah, it's a bit odd, sure." He nudges me in the stomach, smirking. "Why'd he send you running for the hills, Catnip?"

I glower at him and the grin slips off his face pretty quickly. "Shut up, Gale….I don't know, there was just something off with him, the way he looked at me. It was almost scary."

Gale stiffens when he realises how uncomfortable I am and turns himself to look back at the Hob, bringing his hand up to shield his eyes against the autumn sun. He squints for a bit and then turns back to me. "You don't think he's with law enforcement, do you?"

Now it's my turn to shrug. "Do you think he'd be in the Hob if he was?"

"Undercover, perhaps. Katniss, we've gotta start being more careful. I mean, the Capitol have already turned the fence back on. I mean, I know it's on sometimes, but what if it's not just a one off thing?"

"Then how are we going to hunt?"

Gale's lips set in a thin line and he sighs, the air whistling out from between his lips, hanging heavy in the air. "I think things are starting to change around here, and not for the better."

He sounds worried, and it's not an emotion I'm used to seeing in him. It makes me bite my lip and start striding away, towards the direction of Gale's house. I know he follows me.

* * *

As we walk along I try to push the strange man out of mind, and instead talk to Gale about how long Posy will have to be with my mother. He nods in places and makes affirming sounding noises in others, but what concerned him so much just hours ago, I can tell now isn't at the forefront of his mind. His eyes keep darting around us, and he's a little way behind me, a couple of paces off.

"And so she'll only need to stay a couple of days, really. But it's the herbs that are going to be a problem. We're running low, and without being able to go out into the woods to collect some more, I don't know how we'll manage."

He's obviously not listening, but I plow on anyway, more to straighten everything out in my mind than for his benefit. "So we'll be needing a few of the mushroom's in my Dad's old book, and-"

Gale's hand comes sweeping forwards to tighten around my wrist and he yanks me backwards against him and behind the nearest tree. I end up slamming into his chest while he backs up against the bark, and he braces an arm around me. Then he freezes.

"Gale what the _hell_ are you doing? Let me-" I start, my voice muffled by the soft cotton of Gale's shirt and my own hair in my mouth.

Gale's grip on me tightens and he hisses into the shell of my ear. "Catnip, someone's following us. Someone I don't recognise."

I stop struggling and spit out the rest of my hair. Gale lets me go cautiously so he can peer around the tree, using one of the low hanging branches to obscure his face a little.

"Haven't we made it a little obvious that we know we're being followed?" I whisper, my arms crossed as I watch Gale.

He spares me a glance, his eyes crinkled with concern. "At least this way we're under cover. Out in the path in the open, we could have been hurt."

"You think they have _weapons_?" I almost yelp before remembering to lower my voice a little. Gale glares at me anyway.

He looks again, his face hardly peeping out from behind the branch, and I'm about to march up and demand to see for myself, when Gale flings himself backwards and flattens himself against the trunk.

"He's coming this way!"

"What do we do?" I hiss, panic starting to rise up like bile in my throat. Gale shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. I make a split-second decision. If this is someone we know, then we have overreacted and we can hopefully laugh this off later. If it's someone we don't, I'd rather be dragged away for whatever crime I'm sure they've finally caught Gale and I at, than outed from hiding behind a bush. I grab Gale's hand and haul him away from the tree and out on to the lane, swirling us both round to face the person walking towards us.

"Katniss, what are you doing?"

I ignore him. "Shhhh, Gale-"

The figure makes me stall. He is walking as furtively as us, keeping to the side of the lane, checking behind himself every couple of seconds.

He is also tall, skinny, and dressed in all black. When he looks up and stares me down, I can see his blue eyes from where I'm standing. They make me shiver. It's the man from the Hob again.

Gale is frozen beside me until one of his hands creeps between our bodies and clutches mine tightly. I squeeze back instantly. I don't even have time to think about it when the man keeps getting closer.

And closer. Does he have weapons? I can't see any. What does he want with Gale and I? Will he take us somewhere? How will our families cope? And the most prominent question of all, the same as just a few hours ago- who is he?

Gale's grip gets tighter until the man draws up a few feet away. He is empty handed, no threat in view. But his eyes are still so cold- like crystals left over from the ice-age and they pierce me, right to the bone. I can feel Gale bristling beside me, the tension in his shoulders, the pressure on my hand. The man regards us cooly, this solid unit, Gale and I so close together we are almost one person in from of him. If he tries to take only one us, he will fail, I am sure. I will not let him.

His face is angular, all sharp cheekbones and jutting eyebrows and snow white skin. His black hair is a stark contrast, his lips when he moves them a blooming red.

"My name is Marko. I'm from the Capitol."

Does he expect me to say something? I purse my lips and attempt to stare him down. The Capitol. Of course. Of course that's where he's from, so alien looking to this area. But yet, he doesn't have the classic Capitol look- no outrageous make up, not body modification. This puts me even more on edge; this man is unpredictable by nature, then. I bounce on the balls of my feet, ready to run if he even takes a step towards us, and I feel Gale do the same. I am positioned like a bird about to take flight. And then;

"And I'm here to help you."

* * *

_AN: Well then. What did you think? Reviews are much appreciated. Also, I forgot to remind you last chapter- updates for this fic, snippets and stuff and general Galeniss fangirling occurs on my tumblr account, username _**_evarthorne_**_. Make sure you check it out!_


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